


Bound

by bouncymouse



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Breaking and Entering, F/M, Light Bondage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27474142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouncymouse/pseuds/bouncymouse
Summary: Breaking and entering has its consequences...
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Reno
Comments: 15
Kudos: 68





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say... this is just smut with very little plot...
> 
> Inspired by one of [Toherrys'](https://twitter.com/toherrys) wonderfully NSFW pin-ups.
> 
> There could very easily be a follow up to this but I really _do_ need to pull my finger out and finish Reprisal...

Tifa nudged the door to Seventh Heaven with her shoulder, one ripped and overflowing paper bag balanced on her hip and another hanging from the crook of her elbow, keys jangling in her hand. The store was a nightmare, as it always was when fresh supplies came in, and the entire experience left her tired, too hot and more than a little cranky.

She knew she should be grateful that a cheerful smile and a free bottle of her now-famous moonshine were enough to secure her the fresh produce in the bags she carried. The shopkeeper held certain things aside for her, happy with their agreement, safe in the knowledge there would always be a free meal for him at the bar whenever he arrived. Cloud never really approved, much preferring the stability of hard Gil and an arm’s length relationship, but it’d been twelve months since he last walked through her door and now she did what she needed to survive.

A flirtatious smile, a gifted bottle, and a free meal weren’t an issue in the grand scheme of things. Running out of food was, with kids to feed, a bar to run and the occasional old friend showing up unannounced.

She didn’t turn the lights on, navigating by the sunlight that filtered through the fogged windows, catching the motes of dust as they swirled through the air. They reminded her of chores that needed doing before the bar opened for the evening rush, of floors to sweep and glasses to wash. All she wanted was a cup of tea and five minutes to relax. Those five minutes were remarkably difficult to come by.

She almost made it through the kitchen door when one particular old friend barrelled straight into her, displacing the balanced groceries in her hand.

_“Oof.”_ The girl caught the bag, her glossy black hair only just visible over the top, before her flushed face peered around the paper wearing a far too excited expression.

“Yuffie!”

“I’ve been waiting for you for ages!” She dragged out the vowels on the last word, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Where’ve you been?”

Tifa retrieved the groceries, moving towards the kitchen. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“That’s not important.” Yuffie bounded after her, sneakers squeaking on the tiles. “Listen, Tifa. There’s something I’ve gotta show you.”

The nervous energy in the girl’s voice stalled her, and Tifa slowly deposited the bags on the kitchen counter. Her eyes snagged on her mug from earlier, and the dehydrated ring from the tea it once contained. The moment of peace she craved seemed even less likely. She inhaled slowly, trying to soften the tension in her jaw that had her grinding her teeth. The kids were at school, but that only narrowed the possibilities a little. They flipped through her mind, one after the other, no scenario too extreme when it concerned Yuffie. The list was endless, a million things that could be broken, borrowed, lost...

“Yuffie…”

“I checked the back door, but it didn’t look like he forced it, so maybe he picked the lock? Or climbed in through the window? I don’t know, but he sure—”

“Yuffie!”

“He broke in. I caught him!”

The realisation hit like an icy shower, instantly cooling her frustration. She asked, even though she already knew the answer. “Found who?”

“Come on!”

Tifa allowed Yuffie to lead her down the well-worn steps, dragging her feet as though the tiny act of rebellion could buy her more time. How was she meant to explain this? The air turned cooler as they descended into the cellar, and she felt goosebumps prickle at her bare arms. Usually, the daylight that came through the small, rectangular windows would be enough to see by, but Yuffie had left the light on and the single, naked bulb sharply illuminated the scene they walked into. A lead weight settled firmly in the pit of her stomach as her feet felt out the familiar dips and scuffs in the floor.

“I don’t know what to do now,” Yuffie admitted, echoing Tifa’s inner monologue as they stood in the centre of the room.

Tifa stared, unsure how best to process what she was seeing. She leaned against a packed shelf for support, bottles clattering in their boxes when she nudged them with her hip.

“You might’ve mentioned this first,” she said weakly.

“Oh… right.”

It was laughable. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, almost betraying her, and she knew that wasn’t an expression she came across by accident. It belonged to him.

At least he had the decency to look guilty. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, feeling the usual onslaught of emotions she connected with the lanky figure. Guilt, worry… something else, something that had started an ember in the darkness and smouldered until the inferno caught and she was drawn in like a moth to the flame.

“You know… you could’ve called the watch,” she said, after a while.

He raised his eyebrows at that. _Really?_

“I mean… I guess?” Yuffie replied.

“Yuffie… I have a Turk tied up in my cellar.”

“I know… but it happened so fast and then it’d _happened_ and now we can’t untie him ‘cause he’s a Turk and he’s dangerous.” She tilted her head, wrinkling her nose as she considered this. “Come to think of it, he doesn’t seem that dangerous. But maybe that’s part of his evil grand master plan. He lets me tie him up and then I’ll untie him and—”

“Did you ask him?”

“No…”

“Reno…” Tifa tried to keep her tone neutral. “If we untie you, are you going to behave?”

His mouth twitched. “No.”

“You know what, Yuffie? Maybe you should call Reeve.”

His blue eyes narrowed. Reeve was WRO, and it was Edge’s worst kept secret that Rufus Shinra was a key player there. If Yuffie disturbed Rufus, Tseng would find out, and Tifa couldn’t imagine either man being impressed.

“Good idea! No… wait… he’s in meetings today. I can’t call him… Can I? What about Barret?”

“No!” said Tifa, a little too quickly. “Gods, Yuffie… you can’t just tie people up.”

“He’s not a person, he’s a Turk.”

“Turks are people too.”

“But he broke in!”

She considered this for a moment. “Yes, he did.”

“Let’s leave him here for a while. Let him sweat it out.”

“Maybe.”

“Oh! I know!” Yuffie grinned triumphantly. “I’ll go tell get his boss.”

Reno’s frown slid headlong into an expression of panic. “Hold on—” 

“Shut it, Turk.” She waggled a finger at him. “You broke in, you face the consequences!”

“You know where to find Tseng?” asked Tifa, mildly impressed.

“Yeah! I know exactly where to find him. They didn’t make me the head of intelligence for nothing!” Yuffie glanced at Reno for a second, lowering her voice. “Are you gonna be okay while I’m gone?”

“I’ll be fine,” Tifa replied.

Reno snorted. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“No,” said Tifa pointedly. “You’re not.”

The relief at Yuffie’s departure was short-lived; the problem wasn’t solved, only prolonged. She waited for the echoing footsteps on the stairs to fade and the cellar door to slam before she rounded on him. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Reno sat on the floor in his usual sharply tailored suit, legs sprawled out in front of him, his torso bound to the pipe that served cold water to the boiler. The stylised knots made intricate patterns across his chest and arms, fixing him firmly in place. His red hair was messier than she’d seen it, his clothes more dishevelled, and there was an angry mark forming around his right eye.

“She’s going to get Tseng?” Disbelief filled his voice. “Are you shitting me?”

“You’re lucky she only tied you up!”

“Like that pipsqueak could hurt me. I eat punks like her for breakfast.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought she gave you a black eye and tied you up in my cellar.” She pressed the heels of her hands to her temples, exhaling slowly. “Why’re you here, Reno?”

He tipped his head, weighing up his options. “I left my PHS here. How the fuck was I supposed to know she’d be here?”

“You broke in!”

“Technically, the window was open. I didn’t _break_ anything.”

“Reno!”

“Fine, I broke in.” He grinned. “Now untie me before the crazy bitch comes back.”

Tifa considered this. “No.”

“The fuck do you mean, no?”

“No! How am I supposed to explain to Yuffie why I let you go?”

“I’m a Turk. I escaped.”

She took a couple of steps closer, toes bumping against the muddy soles of his boots. “Go on then.”

“Well damn, Lockhart. Why the fuck didn’t I think of that?” He twisted uselessly, pulling against the ropes that bound him. “I don’t know… she’s used some kind of crazy ninja knots. Come on! Untie me! Tseng’s gonna go nuts!”

“You should’ve thought about that before you broke in.”

“I needed my PHS!”

“Well… maybe you should’ve been more careful.”

He stopped struggling, his mouth forming a sly grin. “You didn’t want me to be more careful last night.”

She felt the heat rising through her face.

A year ago, if anybody had tried to tell her she’d be sneaking a Turk into her bed—Reno, no less—she would’ve laughed them straight out of the bar. It was an absurd notion; it made zero sense. Even if he hadn’t been one of the pair that dropped the plate, his arrogant demeanour and cocky smirk made her fists itch beneath her gloves. There were days now where she’d gladly wipe the smile off his face, although the changing nature of their relationship had given her some far more interesting ways to do so.

It was a moment of weakness. He’d become an ally in the face of the Remnants, then a customer, then somehow a friend. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, and Reeve kept on pushing, clinging to the tentative peace they’d struck. It made his life easier, his loyalties having always struggled to align one way or the other, and Reno made her laugh. Where was the harm? The darker parts of their history weren’t forgotten, just pushed aside in the name of moving forwards. The arrogance slowly evolved into banter, and from there quickly nose-dived into flirting. Until one night, the flirting wasn’t flirting anymore. A disagreement over something silly escalated into a fight she’d been spoiling for all day, and suddenly they were horizontal, his shirt missing all but one of its buttons and her underwear lost behind the pinball machine.

A moment of weakness, but the way he’d looked at her, desire burning in his eyes, she’d been powerless to resist him. After that, it kept on happening, despite her determination not to allow it. 

Her determination lay in tatters. It’d happened twice already this week. Reno wasn’t going anywhere, figuratively _or_ literally.

“Last night was…”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Gone shy, have you?”

“No.” She jutted her chin out. “How did she catch you, anyway?”

“I wasn’t expecting her to be in here.”

“And?”

“It was fucking dark! She caught me by surprise, okay?”

“If you wanted your PHS, you should’ve just asked for it.”

“Well, fuck me… why didn’t I think of that?” He shrugged, the motion made difficult by the ropes that pinned him to the pipe. “Maybe I was trying to spare you the third degree?”

Her temper thawed slightly. “Oh.”

“Yeah, so get down here and say hello to me properly.”

“Fine.” She crouched beside him, balancing on her heels. “Hello, Reno.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh? What did you mean?”

He leaned forward, craning his neck to reach her, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “Say hello properly, Tifa.”

“Hel—”

He kissed her, and she melted into him, arms winding around his neck on reflex. Urgent at first, he slowed, his lips forming a lazy smirk against hers. Suddenly, the guilt and worry didn’t seem so important, chased away by the heat of his mouth as her fingers came to rest against the lapels of his jacket. That was her main problem, she realised, kissing him again. He was far too great a distraction.

“That’s more like it,” he said.

She knew she should be more annoyed, but the way her heart was drumming against her ribs told a different story. “You’re unbelievable.”

“So I’ve heard.” The cocky smirk turned into a grin, and he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Untie me.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No!”

He rolled his eyes, trailing insistent kisses along her jaw to whisper in her ear. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

She shivered. “You’re not in any position to negotiate.”

“Maybe not.” His lips grazed the shell of her ear. “But I could be.”

She stumbled forwards as his mouth dipped to the curve of her neck, palms braced against his chest. It was tempting to slip her hands below his gaping collar; she could feel the warmth of his skin through the slim cut of his shirt. She resisted. As he nipped and kissed his way to her collarbone, she arched into him, hands falling to his hips to steady herself instead.

“Reno.... _ah…_ ” 

“Hmm?”

“I can’t untie you,” she whimpered.

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“I c-can’t.”

He chuckled, warm and damp, against her neck. “You like having me tied up, don’t you?”

The hungry kiss he planted on her throat curtailed her reply, his tongue slick before he lightly bit down on the pulse that fluttered below his mouth. She gasped, her fingers instinctually digging into his hipbones, and he met her heavy-lidded eyes with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just think,” he said, punctuating his words with another kiss that made her toes curl, “of all the things I could do... _if_ you untied me.”

“I’m not… _ah..._ ”

He caught her earlobe in his teeth and she shivered.

“Not what?”

She released her grip on his waist and pressed her palms against his thighs, letting her fingers creep higher until they found him, thick and hard beneath the smooth material of his trousers. As she brushed along his length he exhaled sharply, his breath still warm in her ear. She couldn’t deny the needy moan that escaped her lips, torn between the threat of Tseng and Yuffie’s imminent arrival, their less-than-private location and the heat that demanded her attention between her legs.

“Not so shy now, are you?” he whispered.

It was all too easy to tug at his zipper and slip her fingers beneath it. She curled her fingers around him, taking him in her hand through his boxers and his eyes slid shut, his cocky grin barely faltering. When her grip tightened, she felt his responding groan resonate through her core and he kissed her again, hot, wet pressure and pointed teeth. Spurred on by his reaction, she squeezed, rubbing her thumb lightly over the groove at the tip and feeling the damp spot leaking through his underwear. He fidgeted against his restraints, colour creeping into his cheekbones beneath the scarlet tattoos that cut across them. 

Tifa pressed her lips to the bare skin exposed by his open shirt, swirling her tongue along his collarbone. “Maybe I enjoy being in charge.”

Reno laughed. “What makes you think are?”

She released him, rocking back on her heels to put space between them, the cellar air cool against skin made clammy by his mouth. She raised her eyebrows, point proven, and felt the butterflies spiral in her stomach at the bereft expression that fell across his face.

“I’m not the one tied up,” she pointed out.

He opened his mouth, but the reply didn’t come. Instead, he threw her a mutinous scowl. What did he expect? A hand-job on the cellar floor? She couldn’t deny it was tempting, the ache in her core paying testament to the idea, however crazy it was. She slipped a tousled strand of hair behind his ear, fingers trailing his jaw to caress his cheek, and he leaned into her, skin rough and warm beneath her palm.

Tifa dragged her thumb across his bottom lip, smiling at the pout he wore. The look in his eyes was far too calculating. She _knew_ that look.

“We can’t get carried away,” she said, trying to apply the brakes. “Tseng and Yuffie will be here soon.”

His expression changed, morphing into a wicked grin. “I’m game if you are.”

“We can’t.”

He shrugged. “Well, if you’ve bottled it…”

“Excuse me?”

He didn’t reply, just sat there with that infuriating smirk on his face. The slight was a challenge; he was pushing her buttons to see if she’d take the bait. She knew she shouldn’t, even as she thudded to the floor astride his knee, the concrete gritty and cold through her thigh-highs. She _shouldn’t_ , but she would. 

“What makes you think I’ve bottled it?” she demanded.

“I know you,” he said, trying to close the distance between them and failing, grin still firmly in place. “You’re too _good_.”

She palmed him through his underwear again.

“You know me?” She squeezed.

He grunted. _“Yeah.”_

Tifa gripped his chin with her other hand, her thumb and index digging tightly into his jaw as she dragged his face towards her. She could feel the bony peaks of his teeth below her fingers, and his lips parted expectantly, eyes molten and focused firmly on her mouth.

The day’s tension found an outlet, the power she had over him exciting her far more than she thought it would. She fumbled at the waistband of his boxers, freeing him fully and wrapping her hand around his length. She’d walked willingly into the trap he sprung, a lamb to the slaughter. He knew her far too well, she realised. 

She didn’t care.

“I’ll wipe that grin off your face,” she threatened, spitting into her palm. “Watch me.”

“Oh, I fully intend— _ah… fuck...”_

She moved slowly; he was hot and hard in her hand. Rolling the pad of her thumb across the head, she slicked her fingers along him, tightening her grip and building up her tempo. The flutters in her stomach shifted, the tingle travelling deeper and growing more insistent. She squirmed, pressing her thighs together in time with her movements, as though doing so could ease the desire that pooled within her.

“I could fix that,” he purred, kissing the corner of her mouth again. “Untie me.” 

She kissed him instead, the speed of her movements increasing as her lips met his. He responded just as hungrily, his tongue sliding against hers as she released his jaw, allowing him as much freedom to manoeuvre as his binds allowed. When her fingers curled into his hair, nails grazing his scalp, his groan sent a shiver coursing through her. She pumped her fist harder, the weight of him in her palm only making her needs more pressing. How simple it would be to climb onto his lap, to slide herself down the cock that twitched in her hand and fulfil the ache inside her.

Reno thrashed against his bonds again, his frustrated noises muffled against Tifa’s lips. Unable to free himself, he bent his knee instead, tipping her forwards and pinning her against his chest. It stalled the rhythm she’d built, but without his hands to pull her closer, it was the best he could come up with. She squirmed, grinding herself against his thigh.

“Tifa,” he growled. “Untie me.” 

The woman drove him crazy; if only she knew. He could feel her nipples, pebbled beneath her vest, hear her keening softly in her throat as she writhed against him. He needed to touch her, craved it more than he craved the release she was quickly bringing him towards. He had to hold her, to taste her, to dig his fingers into her hips and bury himself inside her. 

He needed to show her _exactly_ who was in charge.

She broke the kiss, grinning as she continued to twist and pump her hand, driving him closer and closer to an edge he was all too happy to throw himself over.

“Just you wait,” he promised, the words rasping through his lips. “I’m going to fuck you so hard—”

A door slammed upstairs, and she visibly flinched, eyes wide. He couldn’t hide his disappointment as she released her grip, even with the threat of discovery hanging over them. As she made quick work of zipping him back into his trousers, he closed his eyes and sighed through gritted teeth, trying to bring his body under some kind of control and failing miserably. The _timing_ of these people was impeccable. Standing up, Tifa wiped her hand on her skirt. Her cheeks were scarlet, the rise and fall of her chest betraying her nerves.

She might as well have been holding a fucking sign.

“Untie me,” he said, his tone all business now the chips were down. “I’ll climb out the window.”

Her eyes flickered to the window he’d broken in through. Did she need to think about it? 

“I’ve got a boner you could hang a towel on and you’re redder than… something really fucking red,” he finished lamely. “It’s way less suspicious if I’m not here. Trust me.”

“But what if—”

“Tifa! Untie me!”

To his surprise, she did as she was told, grabbing scissors from a nearby shelf and snipping at the cords that bound him. He stood up, readjusting his trousers as he did. There was absolutely no way of hiding the evidence and explaining away a raging hard-on was a conversation he didn’t particularly feel like having with Tseng. Frustration simmered through his veins, an unwelcome case of blue-balls doing nothing to improve his mood.

She followed him, wringing her hands nervously. Reno knew he shouldn’t have snapped at her; he’d pretty much instigated it, after all. He paused on his way to the window, weighing up his options. There were footsteps upstairs now, far too heavy to be the Ninja _or_ the Director. Even so…

He barrelled into her, forcing her back into the dusty wall, and she gasped. The kiss was insatiable; he crushed his mouth against hers and twisted one hand through her silky hair to pin her in place. His other arm snaked around her waist, fingers trailing the bare skin exposed by her vest and lower, palming the curve of her ass and pulling her closer still. The warmth of her in his arms was a welcome respite, and she kissed him back just as fervently, shutting out the visitors that were about to pour rain over his parade. He should stop, he knew, before he got them _both_ into trouble. He rolled his hips instead, grinding himself against her and she cried out, fingers clutching at his shirt.

Reno slowed, reluctantly pulling away. He cupped her face in his hands and she softened into him, panting, her eyes glassy and filled with longing. He kissed her again, softer this time. 

“You’re really something, Lockhart. You know that?”

“You need to go,” she murmured, fingers curling a little tighter into his collar, at odds to the sentiment of her words entirely.

He prised them open, pressing his lips to her knuckles before flashing her a wicked smirk. “We’ll finish this later, babe.”

It was a promise, not a threat. He braced his hands against the window frame and pulled himself through. He’d barely cleared the gap when he heard footsteps on the cellar steps and Tifa’s mumbled attempts at explaining his sudden disappearance. She had her work cut out there, he realised, her hair dishevelled and guilt plastered over her face.

He felt a little too proud of himself. Laughing, he picked up the pace.

Later couldn’t come soon enough.


End file.
